


just lovers

by ygoshenyanigans (shenyanigan)



Series: canonverse au [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's, Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: (really light), Canonverse AU, Character Study, Edging, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mentions of kink, Subspace, brief mentions of past kyouyuu and past yubru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shenyanigan/pseuds/ygoshenyanigans
Summary: they’re not heroes anymore. just lovers.
Relationships: Fudou Yuusei/Yuuki Juudai | Jaden Yuki
Series: canonverse au [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877230
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	just lovers

**Author's Note:**

> so this fic sort of blurs the line of porn without purpose and intense character study. i'm not sure you can actually get your rocks off to this. i'm very sorry if that's what you were looking for. there is some like. sort of kinky shit in here. edging is briefly mentioned, though not really performed in the fic itself.
> 
> i genuinely had a lot of fun writing this haha, so i hope you enjoy it!

and it goes like this: yusei slides down, down, down, all the way, until he is settled, flush, shins tucked onto the bed, thighs splayed and open on display, his hips to _his_ hips, and he is full, full, full of _him._ yusei can't help the noise that escapes him, sneaking through his clenched jaw and scrunched closed eyes, sharp breath slipping soon after, because here it is, the epicenter of warmth, of the color red, finally in him again, and no matter how many times he feels it, when he's like this, it's like the first time all over, splitting him open.

"good?"

 _he_ speaks. judai. in front of him with his back against the headboard, chest flushed, he gazes up at yusei with wide, warm eyes, ringed like tree trunks, smile crooked and confident and so _sweet_ , yusei wants to lean forward, to run his tongue along it and taste—

judai squeezes his hip, smile faltering. "yusei."

yusei nods. he thinks. they've been at this for a while; his mind's really starting to go. but he must do the right thing: judai's smile is back again, brighter this time.

"good," his voice is deeper, bravado spilling from his lips, and yusei shivers as it floods his ears, sliding in the fuzz of his brain. "put on a show for me, baby."

yusei shivers more. _baby_. he doesn't know a lot of english words. there were a lot of foreigners in satellite when he was young—jack, even, was half american, martha thinks—but there weren't many _adults_. zero reverse had killed them, and most of satellite's infrastructure, leaving behind a mishmash of instant japanese children by default.

but he knows that one word, _baby_ , because judai whispers it in his ear in the mornings, with his arms wrapped around yusei's waist, _good morning, baby_ , and sometimes purrs it when he's pinning yusei to the mattress, _you take me so good, baby_ , and rarely, so rarely, in the middle of the night, when he's holding yusei and thinks he's asleep, stroking his hair, peppering his forehead with kisses, _baby, i'm yours._

it's a strange word. it means "infant." when yusei looked it up and asked, _do i really look that childish?_ judai had sputtered. _no, it's not like that! that's just what couples call each other over there._

_huh. really?_

_yeah. kinda weird, right? who wants to date a baby?_

_mm._

_should i stop?_

_what?_

_calling you that. there are plenty other pet names i could use for you, yuu-chan._

yusei hadn't even needed to think on it then. _no._

ah, what had he been doing again? "putting on a show." right, of course. he reaches, a little blindly, blearily, for his phone on the table, sifting through spotify.

they play music sometimes when they're fucking. judai likes the groove of it, likes flicking his hips hard and in time to the beat of a sensual song. yusei likes discovering more about judai through it. his music taste is different than yusei's, more eclectic and well-rounded. most of his playlists consist of american hip hop and pop combined with japanese rap and electronic, upbeat and fast-tempo'ed, and thus judai's thrusts are in kind. but sometimes, something slower, something burning with string and heat and energy will come on, and that's when judai will cage yusei with his body, rock himself in rough and slow, leave bites all over him and take him apart piece by piece until yusei is flayed open, chest skin butterflying on either side him as judai, the surgeon, starts playing with his insides, grabbing his heart where it pumps and squeezing, holding, caressing.

yusei clicks on one of the slower songs he loves. guitar, low and steady, fills the little bubble around them on the bed. judai's smile softens. "you really like this one, don't you?"

yusei responds with a wiggle of his hips, gently setting his phone on the bedside table next to his glasses. and then he starts to move.

he undulates a little first, feeling out the music, trying to find a rhythm in the slide. he lifts himself up, hands pressing matching indents into the sheets and judai's stomach, and then rolls down, following the long croon of the singer. or well, that's what he's trying to do anyways. yusei is—always has been, really—bad at dancing. like very bad. back in the team satisfaction days, when they used to dance in the kitchen, yusei was the only one of them with two left feet. tripping, swaying, his body never quite contorting with whatever 90s numetal kiryu was blasting on that boombox he made yusei fix. the four of them used to laugh about it. kiryu especially used to laugh about it. he liked when yusei gave him ammunition. yusei didn't mind, then.

his hips kissing judai's again, he grinds, twists, lifts, feels his body slip—slipping—until he regains himself with a backward arch. the woman in the backdrop, voyeur from his phone, sings of loving in time to a heart pounding hard against a chest, and he tries to move along with her intensity, her enthusiasm, tightening, but he loses his balance _again,_ only this time he can't stop himself, and he crashes, collapsing into judai's front, scrambling for his shoulders with a gasp mixed with a sigh.

the only thing he can ride with grace is his bike.

hands press to his face. deceptive, for how small they are, they're scarred and calloused. far more than yusei's are, actually, insulated from the world in his leather gloves. the rough skin drags against yusei's cheeks, lighting a trail of hot in its wake, but that heat doesn't hold a candle to the fire smoldering in judai's eyes.

"slow down, speed racer," judai's breath blows all over yusei's face, flames lapping at his nose. he shudders. "you're thinking too hard."

he knows. his brain whirls in his skull, steam practically curling out his ears. or maybe that's just his mouth, huffing out hot breaths in hopes of quelling the tight fever beneath his skin. he knows. but he wants to be good for judai. always.

judai has started chuckling. kissing, too: along his jaw and neck. yusei shivers even more, little spiders up and down his vertebrae. "do what feels good," he murmurs into yusei's neck, the vibrations reverberating in yusei's jawbone. "just like i'm a toy you're fucking yourself on."

a toy? like a dildo? yusei shakes his head, sitting still. judai's mouth drops.

"you don't have anything like that?"

no, he doesn't. kiryu found a lot of them in the junkyard when they were young—had yusei fix them up, most the time, clean them off so they could play with them (so he could play with him), but after a while, they started to fall apart. so did the toys.

"man," judai is laughing again, but it rings different, acidic. "all this science money and you don't use any of it for yourself."

no. he doesn't.

judai kisses him. hard, his lips are soft but his teeth are rough, and they drag across yusei's bottom lip, needling his mouth open, as if they need to. yusei's jaw releases and judai's tongue immediately fills the empty space, tasting of curry and sweat and something foreign and odd—effervescent, sour, almost like come but not quite. yusei loves it. his nose scrunches and he salivates, spit and tiny animal noises spilling down his chin in equal measure. judai licks into yusei's mouth even more.

he doesn't really know why they're ever not kissing. nothing else matters when they are. not the open wounds bleeding in yusei's heart or the scars on judai's mind, the city or the friends they never get to see, the friends ( ~~the lovers~~ ) they _lost_ along the way, yusei doesn't forget about any of it—he can't—but judai has so much substance, so much presence, he demands every synapse in yusei's mind, and for a moment, it is just them, it is just yusei and judai and they are just two people in love, doing what people who love do by physically tearing down the boundaries that exist between them and living inside each other's skin, sustaining off each other's air, if only for a little while. they’re not heroes anymore. just lovers.

judai is the one to break their kiss, as he always does. for a moment his eyes search yusei's face, before another smile lights his features. warmth curls at the base of yusei's spine. "there," he punctuates his sigh with a kiss to yusei's nose. "now we're relaxing, yeah?"

sure. yusei can't remember why it was they started kissing, or what exactly caused the sickening curl in yusei's stomach, but it's leaving, and yusei's limbs are warm and pliable, melting in judai's heat—which he's suddenly acutely aware of, how it surrounds him, how it _fills_ him. judai tucks so neatly into all his open holes, scent, sound, taste, but most of all touch. his thumbs still run circles on yusei's cheeks. his cock is still buried deep in yusei's core, rubbing up against nerves and veins and all his insides, making friends with his intestines.

he clenches around him without thinking, because now he's craving. it must startle judai, because his moan is half-choked, and his eyes flash gold.

"guess not," says judai, to a statement only he remembers. his smile goes a little dark at the edges. "but i can work with eager. turn around."

judai's voice is sharp, lording, demanding, and oh, oh, oh, the shivers, they're back, ping-ponging down his limbs. he does as he's told, swiveling around and sliding down into judai's lap again, and—h- _ha!_

"ah, that's right. you love it when i fuck you like this," judai's right by yusei's ear, whispers crawling into his ear drums, and yusei isn't shivering anymore, he's just shaking. his breath starts catching when judai wiggles his hips, getting comfortable, slotting up right where yusei wants him, needs him. "bet i could make you come if i—"

slowly, yusei feels judai's hips inch up, more and more of him sinking deeper and deeper into yusei, sliding straight into the part of him that craves judai more than anything. he can't help the filthy moan that he expels. his back arches, tightening, but he has no time to savor, because judai lowers himself again, achingly slow, no release, no relief. from behind, a hand snakes around yusei's shoulder, his neck, and grips his jaw, hard, the new operator of where yusei's eyes may go.

"i think you still owe me a show, though," judai purrs. his eyes are so bright, intoxicating in the dimness of their room. "you wouldn't disappoint me, would you?"

no, no of course not. of course he wouldn't. he wants to be _good_. he shakes his head—or tries to, at least. given judai's grip, it's hard, but he hopes the wideness in his eyes, the tremor in his lip, speak for themselves. for him.

they must. judai hums a long note, and then turns yusei's head. "look, then."

there, in front of them, is the floor-length mirror yusei uses every morning to get ready. the one he checks his shoes in, the one he ties those horrible ties in, the one he turns around at night because martha always taught him that shadows lurk in reflective glass. two blurry figures sit in its pane, nested on a bed that looks just like theirs, naked and flushed and joined.

"see how pretty you are, yuu-chan?" says judai.

yusei tries to study the man in the mirror, though it's blurry from this far away. drool dribbles down his chin in a steady, thick stream, from red, puffy lips that are slightly ajar. hair, thick and tousled and dripping sweat, sticks to his forehead. glazed blue eyes are red-rimmed, cheeks tear-tracked, chest expanding and collapsing erratically, as if he can't even breathe right. he's hardly pretty. yet the judai he sits atop of looks at him like a jewel, clutches his jaw tight enough that yusei can see where some of the flesh squishes under his hold. that judai runs his nose along the length of his treasure's neck, places a kiss at the junction near the bottom. yusei's breath catches just from watching.

"move."

yusei does as he's told. the man in the mirror lifts at the same time, abdomen contracting, before falling hard, grinding all the way. his jaw falls open. the drag must feel so good inside him, judai, so warm, thick, especially when he bends just right, when he arches and slides just a little to the left, and there, there, oh god, there—

yusei's eyes fall closed in tandem with his head lolling back, and he imagines what the man in the mirror must look like, neck exposed, bouncing up and down in judai's lap with such rigor, enthusiasm. how he takes his bottom lip into his mouth and bites, hard, blood mixing with spit and sweat and dripping all over him. he's so debauched, so thoroughly lost in the feeling of feeling good, fucking himself in tandem not to the soft chimes of the harp still playing from his long forgotten phone, but the melody right next to his ear, the chest vibrating against his back, imprinting him with, "look at you" and "you're mine" and the most breathless, the most reverent, "yusei..."

a sound so filthy and desperate erupts without his permission. it’s only been a few minutes, but he can’t help but be close to the edge again, having been brought there so many times before, and that can’t happen because this is hardly a show. he squeezes around judai on his way back down, gasping for breath, and judai tangles his fingers in yusei’s hair. tugs.

“close already, aren’t you, baby?” asks judai, humming in thought. yusei whimpers, thighs trembling. of course he knows. but yusei shakes his head anyways, as if his feeble attempt at denial will work. he lifts himself up, up, up, all the way, and suspends, feeling judai catch on his outer edge, aching emptiness shooting through him. he can keep going, he knows he can, he just—one minute. that’s all he needs.

his neck twists suddenly, and there are lips on his, kissing sweetly, lapping up the blood and saliva and sweat with earnest. “i think it’s time for the finale,” says judai against yusei’s chin, planting another kiss on his lips. “go ahead.”

was this really enough, though? judai only came the once, before, when they were first starting and yusei had begged for judai's cock in his mouth. after that, it'd been all about him: judai pushing him into the mattress and eating him out, then opening holes in every one of yusei's walls and stretching them wide, coaxing even the most reticent parts of him out of his shell. judai gives and he gives and he keeps on giving, and all yusei's done is take, even though he hasn't earned it, and he has to _earn_ it.

yusei is all set to keep moving, passing on a little shake of his head, when the hand around his middle squeezes even harder, pushing him down and making him see stars. "ah-ah," suddenly, there's a loose grip around him, stroking, and oh god, oh, he can't, the choking breaths start building just at the ghost of a touch, the strings holding him up going taut. "relax."

but why? he could hold out if... if judai just _stopped_ touching him like that. his fingers, trembling as they are, take hold of judai's wrist. judai laughs in response, before lifting and kissing yusei's hand. "won't you be good for me?"

good. his breath hitches. he wants it so bad, he nearly whines acknowledging it, the curl in his belly clenching tighter and tighter. good boy. it’s the most intoxicating lie judai tells, and yusei needs it, he needs—

judai takes him in hand again, stroking once, twice: "come."

ah. how quickly yusei's resolve fizzles. yusei doesn't climax immediately, not on command, but judai punctuates his demand with a hard flick of his hips and a pump down his cock, and it's so much, too much, all this feeling, all this pressure, all this love inside him, all this _judai_ around him and on him and in him, he can't contain it all anymore. it spews out of him in songs from his lips and tears from his eyes and sticky, hot fluid spilling all over his stomach, over and over, and judai keeps pushing against him, pushing out more, making him overflow again and again and again.

"oh h-holy fuck—yusei—"

it's only a minute or two before more heat fills yusei up again, crawling in him, coating his insides, and he loves it, even though he doesn't deserve it. he was never good, he never earned this, but judai lets him have it anyways, judai loves him like this anyways, judai—judai—

"ah, fuck, you're so good, yusei; so, so good—"

he lies.

"such a good boy. here let me..."

judai is always lying when it comes to yusei.

"i've got you. it's okay. i've got you."

yusei doesn't mind.

☆☆☆

when yusei finally comes back to true consciousness, there's a lap beneath his head and nails running along his scalp. he's all cleaned up, fresh from a bath, he can feel it on his skin with the heat that licks off it, and wrapped in new clothes. the trackies might be judai's, because they're a bit snug on his legs, but the tank top is definitely his own, given that it fits. it smells like judai still, somehow. or maybe that's just the man himself. soft little pings—like dialogue boxes being clicked through on one of those retro handhelds—flutter in and out of his ears from just over head. he smiles. wonder what he's playing.

yusei shifts a little so he can look at judai's face, groaning softly. by the time yusei's all turned around, judai's handheld is tossed somewhere on the bed, and his knuckles brush yusei's cheek. "welcome back," he says, half joking.

yusei rubs at his eye, warmth burning in his chest. "i'm home," he says, half earnest.

judai's smile is the kind of thing yusei's read poetry about: glowing and crescent shaped, a soft sweetness like the moon, half-waxing. and yet it wanes, just the slightest bit, wilting at the edges as he runs his finger along yusei's jaw. "are you okay?"

ah, he's too much. yusei nods, taking hold of judai's hand so he can kiss the palm in an attempt to hide the flush on his cheeks. that was one of their tamer scenes to begin with, but judai always checks anyways. always. it makes his heart skip.

"you worry too much," mumbles yusei. "i'm not glass. i won't break."

"no," judai replies instantly, "but you are precious to me."

oh.

judai must not have meant to say that. his face goes bright red, hand freezing on yusei's face. he starts babbling almost immediately. "i—uh—i mean, and you know, like, it's important when i'm. you know. that i take responsibility and uh, y'know—"

the warmth in yusei doesn't stop blossoming. this is what it's like, being loved. he's only felt it once before, and it was different then. a little softer all the way through. but it was just as kind, just as thoughtful, and yusei was just as unworthy of it then as he is now, and yet—yet—judai is staying. he came all this way, just for yusei, and he's still here, just for yusei, and he takes everything about yusei with that same, sweet smile, says yusei's name with that same sweet voice, and it rings just the same, just like _his_ used to.

he doesn't deserve this. he will never, ever be good enough for this. and yet.

"—and well. you know."

"judai," a smile blooms on yusei's face and he doesn't try to stop it. "i know."

judai's jaw goes a little slack then, before he slowly recovers it, a grin returning to his face. "good."

it's anyone's guess which one of them moves first, but easily, like clockwork, they settle into each other, judai tilting yusei's chin up and gracing him with a long, chaste kiss. for a second, yusei almost thinks: maybe it doesn't matter if he deserves it. maybe he can just... have this one. maybe it'll be okay.

slowly, they break apart. "judai-san," yusei whispers. judai's breath catches a little.

"yeah?"

"i think you may have just lost your game."

the tell-tale game over music plays from behind them. judai blinks at him once. "...fuck."

yusei can't help but cackle, burying his face in judai's chest, letting the laughter vibrate into the fabric of his shirt and beyond. judai swears some more as he leans forward, grabbing for his handheld where it's lost in the folds of their duvet. "okay, speed racer, you owe me a brute tigrex."

"alright," says yusei, nuzzling his face into judai in hopes of hiding his smile. there are worse ways to spend a friday night.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @ygoshenyanigans
> 
> fun fact: judai is playing monster hunter. he brought it with him from the past!


End file.
